Chef, educator and food journalist Yukari Sakamoto has just published a new book: Food Sake Tokyo
, a fabulous guide to the city's eats. Go Yukari! I first met Yukari a few years ago; I've always learned a ton when she lectures on Japanese food. Her book reflects her deep, deep knowledge -- what I love about it is the incredible, broad and extensive details she shares, from the phrase for "juicy meat" to a detailed rundown of the stores in Kappabashi, the city's restaurant supply district, to a listing of "antenna shops" (read the book to find out what that means!) to wonderful culinary itineraries. I am so impressed by how much work Yukari has put into this book. If you're into food and heading to Tokyo, this is your guide.
When I emailed Yukari to tell her how much I liked her book, I asked if she wouldn't mind sharing a recipe or two for us here on the JFR. Yukari graciously sent me a few. First up: Summer somen noodles with a quick, homemade dipping sauce (tsuyu). What a super easy yet deeply umami-rich tsuyu. Mmmm. Here's the recipe:
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Posted by Harris Salat in Book | Permalink | Comments (1) | Email this story
Okay, time for teriyaki, but I mean the real thing, not the ho-hum dish we typically see here in America, the one with a gummy, starch-thickened sauce that drowns chicken or fish. The "teri" in teriyaki means "glossy," and that's the secret of this thing -- you coat an ingredient with a light, thin glaze to give it incredible sweet-savory flavor and a lovely, shiny sheen. Wonderful. The sugar and mirin in the sauce, by the way, are what create that gloss. Teriyaki is a delicious method for preparing chicken, fish or beef; fast and easy, too. (Yep, great for family cooking!) Start by preparing a teriyaki sauce, which you can make ahead of time and keep in the fridge for at least a month. (I bumped into Hiroko of Sakaya in the subway this morning and she reminded me that the teriyaki sauce flavors mingle and improve over time, too -- thanks, neighbor!) Then choose your main ingredient: boneless chicken leg, chicken breast, salmon fillet or steak, swordfish, mahi mahi, beef steak or even artichoke hearts.
The way to cook teriyaki is first to brown your ingredient on both sides in a hot skillet, then brush on the glaze, flipping and brushing on more glaze as you cook, until the ingredient is done. You can easily cook teriyaki on a charcoal or gas grill, too. So to prepare, say, swordfish steak teriyaki (like in the picture above), preheat a skillet over medium high heat. Add a little oil to coat the pan. When the oil is hot, lay the fish in the skillet and sear both sides, about 2 minutes. Now lightly brush the swordfish with teriyaki sauce, and grill for about 1 minute. Carefully flip the fish, and lightly brush more teriyaki sauce on the other side. Grill for another minute. Repeat the flipping and glazing routine for about another 1 to 2 minutes on each side (depending on how thick the steak), and you're done. Serve with a steaming bowl of rice.
Now, what about the teriyaki sauce? Glad you asked.
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Posted by Harris Salat in Fish | Permalink | Comments (11) | Email this story
An extraordinary invitation prompted my trip to Japan this past June: A chance to spend a month training in the kitchen of Hyotei, the hallowed 400-year-old ryotei in Kyoto. Hyotei is no ordinary restaurant. Located along a historic pilgrim's route to Nanzen-ji Temple, it started out as a teahouse where travelers could rest, refresh and change their woven reed sandals before entering the temple's hallowed grounds, just up the road. Today, the original thatched-roof teahouse and genkan, or entranceway, still stand from four centuries ago -- and the direct descendents of the founders, the Takahashi family, still welcome guests 16 generations later. Hyotei defines the intrinsically Japanese notions of omotenashi, tea, and kaiseki ryori; to spend a month in the midst of the extended Takahashi family (that's what the restaurant felt like - a big family), was a profoundly seminal experience. It was also an incredibly moving one; I'm humbled by the welcome, kindness and warmth everyone there bestowed on me.
I've been thinking about how to write about this experience for weeks now. I could fill a book with what I saw and learned -- wait, there's an idea -- and I'm still unraveling everything in my mind. So right now, I thought to share a bunch of photos I took during my training to give you a glimpse inside this traditional kitchen. Cooks don't just work at Hyotei; they embrace a life of total commitment and focus -- they typically spend a decade training, and live in the restaurant's dorm. All the food was important, from the sublime dishes served to guests to the daily makanai, or staff meals. Ingredients were delivered every morning in tiny, absolutely fresh quantities by a steady stream of vendors, some whose companies have been supplying Hyotei for generations. And -- I love this -- the restaurant's signature dish was a simple soft-boiled egg, accented with a drop of soy sauce. An egg. The simplicity, velvety yolk, perfect eggy flavor of that egg, harvested by an elderly farmer in tiny farm in northern Kyoto, and carefully sliced in half and composed on in a stunning presentation says it all about Hyotei, and Japanese cooking. (My deepest thanks to the Takahashi family.) Here are the photos:
Posted by Harris Salat in Kyoto | Permalink | Comments (12) | Email this story
If you haven't ever tried edamame picked fresh from the vine, please scour your local farmers market, just in case someone's selling them. I happened to drop by the Union Square market in NYC and came across a pile -- and grabbed 'em fast. Edamame are young soybeans in the pod, usually sold precooked and frozen (like the kind you typically get in restaurants). The fresh ones aren't nearly as perfect looking, and smaller in size. But the flavor and texture - so sublimely beany and firm and vital feeling as you bite into them. Preparing fresh edamame is a snap:
Bring a big pot of salted water to a boil over high heat (you want plenty of water). Snip the stalk ends off the beans, which will allow the salt water to penetrate. When the water is rolling and boiling, add the edamame. Don't reduce heat, and cook quickly, about 2 minutes or so. (Taste to make sure they're cooked through, and have lost their green edge.) Transfer to a colander and shock them under cold running water. When they're cool to the touch, add them to a mixing bowl and sprinkle in salt to taste. Mix together well, pile in a mound on a serving platter, sprinkle a little salt over them and serve. Eat the beans, toss the shells.
Oh, and a word about salt: The salt in the picture above is arajio, that is, natural Japanese sea salt. This coarse salt is still wet with brine, so it's loaded with incredible oceany and mineral flavors. It's absolutely fantastic; I love this salt. It's quite potent, so be careful not to over-salt. You can find arajio in Japanese markets; it's a bargain compared to fancy gourmet salts, to boot.
Posted by Harris Salat in Vegetables | Permalink | Comments (4) | Email this story
Turnips, daikon, beets and radishes aren't only about the tasty bulbous root -- the leaves are just as important. I'm always a little amazed (incredulous) to see these delicious greens trimmed at my local New York City farmers market, at a shopper's request. C'mon. In Japanese cooking, where the credo motainai, don't waste, reigns, the leaves are integral. But why, you ask, the leafy soliloquy? Well, my wife and I planted a bunch of lovely kabu (Japanese turnips) this spring which we're now happily harvesting (along with a bounty of crunchy Japanese cukes -- but our eggplant seeds never sprouted, too bad!). So we're cooking a ton of kabu, leaves, roots and all. Kabu miso soup is fantastic (simmer the stems and sliced root in dashi until tender, along with thinly sliced abura age (deep fried tofu), add the chopped leaves to just cook through, kill the fire, dissolve miso of choice (Hatcho is amazing with kabu, but so is a nice rustic red miso), and serve). And so are lightly cured kabu pickles. Here are three easy, super-fast methods:
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Posted by Harris Salat in Vegetables | Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this story
Paging through a review copy of A Cook's Journey to Japan
, a charming new cookbook filled with homestyle faves, I landed on the hiyashi chukka recipe, cold ramen noodles with sesame vinaigrette. Man, that looked good. While training in a Kyoto kitchen last month, during Japan's hot 'n humid rainy season, these refreshing, tangy noodles were always a delight served as makanai, or staff meal. Easy and fast to prepare, too. When I emailed author Sarah Marx Feldner and asked her to suggest a recipe to cook, guess which one she suggested? Yep, and here's what she wrote:
"I love this recipe because it brings back great memories of Japan. I first ate it as an ekiben [bento boxes sold on trains] while traveling along the Shimanto Gawa in Shikoku. And I enjoyed it once again one sweltering summer afternoon with my "Japanese family" in Iwaki, shortly before heading home to The States. It's a great summer dish because the dressing can be prepared well ahead of time. And the toppings are super flexible -- so it's a perfect recipe for highlighting your farmer's market finds."
Amen, Sarah. With this dish you pile a variety of toppings over cold ramen, then pour a sesame vinaigrette. Get creative with the toppings: mix and match crunchy, raw veggies, thin-sliced omelet (a must), and other ingredients -- just like I did. Here's the recipe for my adaptation of this fantastic dish:
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Posted by Harris Salat in Noodles | Permalink | Comments (7) | Email this story
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